XFiles Skinner's Nightmares WIP
by spookysister7
Summary: Dream or reality? Is there a diff? multi character death, sorta. violence. nongraphic rape


Title - Skinner's Nightmares WIP

Author - Spookysister7

Email address - - http/ - PG-13 all violence, no lang. implied sexual ref, kinda.

Category - SkT, A, MT, ST, UST

Spoilers - None

Keywords - SkT, ST, MT, angst

Summary - Dream or reality? Is there a diff?

Feedback - Please, oh please, oh please! I'm young, I'm stupid, I need help! Thanx! Post anywhere! Just keep my name and let me know.

Disclaimer -

Mulder and Scully are not mine

They aren't making me a dime

They belong to my man, Chris

And Fox, the company of bliss

Skinner does not belong to me

But if he did, I'd be filled with glee

Krycek and Flukie, don't forget Eve

Alright, I'm done, and now I'll leave

But just remember, morning glory

They're not mine, now read the story

Disclaimer poem by: Kelly Paleczny

Author's note - Die Hard SkinnerChick! I'm a big fan of 'What would happen if...', so here we go! (Keep reading, it gets better... or is that worse?)

Skinner's Nightmares

He knocked on her hotel room door, fidgeting slightly, and waited impatiently for an answer. Finally, a sleepy voice came from the other side of the door.

"Who is it?"

"Open the door, Agent Scully. I need to talk to you." Skinner commanded authoritatively.

"Sir?" Scully asked as she opened the door, wrapping her robe close around her. "What are you doing here so late? Is it Mulder?" Anxiousness crept into her voice.

"No. Mulder's fine. May I come in?" Skinner asked, looking down the hallway of the silent hotel.

"Of course." Scully said opening the door and taking a step back to invite him in. Skinner walked in and turned around, waiting for her to shut the door.

"Lock it." Without a second thought, Scully shut the door and threw the lock. As she turned, she expected an anxious Skinner to finally get to the meat of whatever was bothering him, but what she saw was nearly overwhelming. Skinner loomed over her, his physical presence stifling, and Scully felt suddenly threatened. She swallowed hard and fought down her fear, remembering who this was. Despite her feelings, she was certain Skinner was no threat and meant her no harm. He must be really upset to forget how intimidating his presence can be, even to his friends.

"Sir, did you have something you wanted to talk about?" She said as calmly as she could. His answer was swift. His massive hand came towards her, and, before she could react, she was pinned to the small hotel bed, Skinner's hand covering her mouth and making it hard to breathe and impossible to scream. At first, shock and confusion froze her thoughts, but, even when her logic returned, she still trusted him. She assumed there was a reason for his strange behavior, so she queled her body's natural inclination to fight and waited for Skinner to explain his actions. No explanation came.

Instead, Skinner's stifling hand seemed to stretch and cover her whole body as he lay on top of her. His weight forcing what little air she had from her lungs, she felt lightheaded and unbelievably weak as she tried to push him off. He grabbed her wrists with his free hand and ignored her struggles, holding her incredibly tight. Scully's fear had pushed her adrenal glands to nearly intolerable levels, but, no matter what she did, she could not get him off. Suddenly, he removed his hand from her mouth, and she could breathe. She sucked in a huge gulp of air and tried to scream, but, before she could get out more than a squeak, Skinner's mouth covered hers in a stifling kiss. This was no quick smooch in the elevator; this was hard, destructive, and deadly. His free hand roamed down her body, shredding her robe and snapping the buttons that closed her pajamas. His lips finally released hers, and she screamed.

"Mulder! Help me!" She shouted desperately. Skinner reared up and brought his fist down, silencing her and stilling her struggles. Mulder pounded at her door.

"Scully! Scully, are you okay? Scully answer me!" He screamed at her door, throwing himself against it. Finally, the door flew open and Mulder could not believe his eyes. Skinner was still on top of her, one hand wrapped around her wrists, the other raised in a fist to deliver another silencing blow.

As Mulder burst in the door, Skinner turned his head to face him and snarled like an animal protecting its kill. Mulder's shock didn't hold him back for long as a great savage scream erupted from his chest like a volcano.

"What have you done to her!" He screamed, flying across the room and ripping Skinner off the bed. Skinner rolled as he hit the floor, leaping to his feet almost immediately. Mulder quickly surveyed his partner's still, torn form, and what he saw fueled his anger.

"I'll kill you." Mulder swore quietly, his voice low and dangerous. The two men circled each other, neither one making the first move. Patience was never Mulder's virtue, and, unfortunately, Skinner knew that. Mulder leapt at him, hands like claws. Skinner hunched down, and, as Mulder flew over him, he stood. Trajectory interrupted, Mulder flew towards the wall, neck snapping as he hit. He slid to the floor lifelessly. Fixing his clothing and wiping the blood from his hands, Skinner left the hotel room.

Skinner sat up, gasping for breath. It took him a second to recognize his surroundings.

"What am I doing at the office? The last thing I remember..." Skinner trailed off as he remembered. Suddenly nauseated, he barely made it to the trashcan in time.

"What have I done?" He moaned. "Oh, God, what have I done?" He asked to the ceiling and buried his face in his hands.

"Sir? Is everything alright?" Kim asked from outside the office door. Skinner didn't know how to respond, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"Fine." He said gruffly, holding back the tidal wave of guilt. He could hear Kim walk back towards her desk, and he pulled himself up off the floor. He fell back into his chair, studying his torn knuckles as he strained to hold in the nausea. He knew they would find the bodies soon.

"Maybe I didn't kill her. She could have survived, right?" He asked himself, a strange, sad hope filling him. Maybe it would be better for her if she didn't survive. He thought, remembering what he had done to her, and thinking about her reaction to Mulder's death. I deserve to die for what I have done. Skinner thought, reaching towards the drawer that held his gun. Fingers on the handle, Skinner paused. No. I don't deserve to get out of it this easy. I have to turn myself in. Soul sick, Skinner pushed the button to call Kim, preparing for his departure. She answered with a quick and slightly flustered tone.

"Yes, Sir, I know they're late, but I'm sure they'll come in any second. Oh, good. Here they are now! I'll send them in right away." Kim finished without taking a breath, turning off the intercom before Skinner could get a word in. Skinner stared at the intercom in surprise, finally looking up when the door opened. The two agents were arguing again, the taller one pointing at a file impatiently as the shorter one tried to explain and shut the door at the same time.

"Scully, I just don't understand how you always miss..." Mulder trailed off as he saw that Scully's attention was no longer on him. Turning, he was prepared to apologize for the lack of protocol he had shown, when the look on Skinner's face cut the words from his mouth. Skinner's jaw hung open like he had just seen the Holy Grail dance across the room, and his eyes scanned his agent's bodies as if he expected them to disappear at any moment.

"Sir, are you okay?" Scully asked tentatively, her doctor persona going into high gear. Mulder just looked at him warily, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn't take long. Skinner rose from his chair and, practically squeezing the life from Mulder, grabbed him in a giant bear hug. Releasing him, Skinner grabbed Scully's shoulders and gave her a once over.

"You're okay, right? Both of you?" Skinner asked anxiously, as if not believing his eyes. Scully and Mulder shared a worried look as Scully responded.

"We're fine, Sir. Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's wonderful. I'm just so relieved. I thought I had... Oh, thank God it was a dream." Skinner said rapidly, slumping back into his chair and taking a deep breath. He felt as if he was about to pass out in sheer relief. His two agents gave him a look of deepest concern and seemed to silently reach a decision.

"Sir, you don't look well. Why don't you let us take you home? You can take today off and get some rest." Scully said gently, squatting down next to Skinner's chair.

"Yah, I hate to say it, Sir, but you look like crap." Mulder said, only half joking, concern flooding his hazel eyes. Skinner's first instinct was to fight the insinuation that he needed rest, but he really did feel like crap, and going home sounded great.

"Okay." He said docily, shocking both his agents.

"Well, alright then. I'll just tell Kim to cancel your appointments today, and we'll head off." Scully said as she set her plan into motion. Mulder gave Skinner a hand up, and Skinner squeezed his bicep in a silent thank you.

When they reached Skinner's apartment building, Mulder dropped Skinner and Scully off at the front door and went to find a parking space. The two agents had agreed that they would make sure Skinner made it to his apartment safely and got some rest. He just looked so worn and tired that they didn't want to take a chance. Besides, he hadn't told them what had happened, and they could never let a story go unfinished. For some reason, Skinner looked a little uncomfortable being alone with Scully, but he didn't object, so they made their way towards his apartment. When they reached his door he almost looked as if he was going to knock, but then he thought better and fished out his keys. Puzzled, Scully surreptitiously looked him over for head injuries, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Skinner finally opened his door, and Scully followed him inside, shutting the door behind her. At the sound of the door clicking into place, Skinner spun and paled.

"Sir, are you okay? What's the matter?" Scully asked, coming closer and reaching up to feel his forehead. Skinner grabbed her wrist.

"Lock the door." He whispered, trance-like.

"Sir?" Scully said, beginning to feel fearful as his grip grew tighter on her wrist. In slow motion, Skinner's hand came up to cover her mouth, and she turned away, avoiding it.

"What are you doing? Let go, you're hurting me!" She cried as his hand covered her mouth and forced her against his body. She used her free arm to elbow him in the gut, and he let go of her mouth. Before she could try and escape the iron grip he had on her wrist, he threw her on the couch and grabbed both her hands, holding her immobile with his body. His eyes were dead black, glazed over and dilated. His breath came in quick, sharp pants, almost causing him to hyperventilate. Dr. Scully noted his reactions, as Agent Scully planned her escape, and Miss Scully screamed.

"Mulder! Help!" She cried as she struggled under Skinner's dead weight. The unlocked door flew open, and Mulder stood there, momentarily stunned. Scully fought unsuccessfully as Skinner turned towards his visitor.

"Skinner, get off of her. Now." Mulder said, growling, trying to keep from attacking his boss. Skinner tilted his head, recognizing Mulder from somewhere, and his black eyes lightened a shade.

"Stop me." He rasped, still on top of Scully. His eyes turned suddenly black again, and he looked down at his captive with hunger flooding his every expression. Mulder could hold back no longer, he snatched Skinner off of her and threw him towards the wall. Skinner rolled and leapt to his feet, eyes on Scully. Mulder got in front of her and prepared to fight. Skinner kept advancing, ignoring Mulder's presence.

"I'm not done with you yet." Skinner said calmly, as if expressing some commonly known fact. Mulder's hackles rose at the tone.

"You will not touch her again." Mulder stated firmly. Skinner finally gave him some attention and smiled. An evil smile, full of malice, intent, and lechery. Mulder lost it. With a low snarl, he leapt towards Skinner. Skinner hunched. As Mulder flew over him, he screamed and collapsed to the floor. Mulder hit the ground and rolled, springing to his feet and watching his quivering foe shiver on the floor. After a few seconds, Dr. Scully took a chance and checked on her patient. Mulder tried to stop her, but she ignored him and bent over the man curled in a fetal position on the floor.

"No, no, no, no, no..." Skinner muttered from under his hands, refusing to uncurl or show his face. "I've killed them, I've killed them again. How many times can I kill them? No, no, no, no. Let them kill me, please? Anything! Just make it stop. Please, make it stop."

"Sir, we're okay. You didn't kill us, you haven't killed anyone. It's okay, it's okay." Scully said soothingly, rubbing his back in a circular motion.

After nearly an hour of apologizing, reassuring and sometimes downright begging, Skinner was seated on his couch and began to tell his story.

"I've always had vivid dreams. Since the war, I try not to remember most of them, and I usually succeed. Lately, I keep getting snatches, flashbacks, of my dreams while I'm awake. At first, they were almost normal, a sense of deja vous, but then they became frightening, and seemed to center around you two. Most of the time, I know they're just dreams, but last night... I don't remember going to sleep, and I woke up in my office, and, and my knuckles were raw. Just like they would be if the dream was real." Skinner looked at them guiltily, embarrassed at his actions both last night and moments ago.

"What happened in your dream last night? Maybe if you tell us, we can figure out what's going on and how you injured your knuckles." Mulder asked, profiling skills on the ready.

"I... You probably know most of it from today, but my dream was much, much worse. I was at some strange, rundown little hotel. The hallways were dimly lit and empty. I found myself in front of a door and knocked. It was your room, Scully. You came to the door, and it must have been late, because you had on your pajamas and a robe. You... you let me in. You were worried about Mulder; you thought he had gotten in some kind of trouble. I told you he was okay, and then I told you to lock the door. You did. You trusted me, even when I put my hand over your mouth and threw you on the bed. You didn't fight. You thought I was trying to tell you something. I don't know why you trusted me..." Skinner trailed off, voice breaking.

"Because you're a good man. It's okay, it wasn't you. It was only a dream." Scully said, trying to comfort him. Skinner snorted.

"It was me today. It sure felt like me. I was in it, I could feel everything. I couldn't control it, but part of me didn't want to..." Skinner faded off, ashamed.

"What happened next?" Mulder asked, getting back to the story.

"I..." Skinner swallowed and closed his eyes, not wanting to see their reactions. "I laid on top of her. I know she couldn't breathe. I had her wrists in one hand. I could hold them down with one hand. I still had my hand over her mouth, but I wanted to use it, so I took my hand off. She was so glad to breathe. I could see she was so glad to breathe, but I didn't care. I had to keep her quiet. I kissed her. It wasn't a nice kiss. It was... mean. I don't know how else to describe it. I didn't care if she liked it, I didn't care if I hurt her. In fact, while I was kissing her, I used my hand..." Skinner shook, sick with the detail of his perverted dream. He didn't open his eyes.

"Anyway, I had to come up for air, so I stopped kissing her for a second, and she finally screamed. She screamed for you, Mulder. She screamed for help, and I... I didn't like it. So, I hit her. I punched her so hard that my knuckles were raw, and she stopped screaming. I didn't care. I was going to punch her again. I was going to punish her for screaming. The door flew open. You had been throwing yourself against the door the whole time. I didn't even hear it. You came in and just stood there for a second, you couldn't believe it. I knew the moment it registered. You… you screamed like a wounded animal." Skinner opened his eyes and looked at his shoes, chuckling mirthlessly.

"You yanked me off of her and threw me across the room, just like this time. It didn't stop me. I stood there, waiting. I knew what you would do, how you would react. I used it. You saw her… Saw what I had done… You said you'd kill me. I don't blame you. I'd kill me. You leapt at me, like today, and I was ready, like today, but I didn't stop in my dream. You flew over me, and I stood. I stood, Mulder. I killed you by standing. How stupid is that?"

"How?" Mulder asked in a whisper, choked by the guilt and disgust flowing in waves from Skinner's stooped form.

"You couldn't stop. You hit the wall and I heard a snap. A terribly final, terribly loud snap. You never moved again. I didn't care. I reached up to straiten my jacket and I saw blood on my hands. My knuckles weren't bleeding. I never even touched you. Where did the blood come from, Mulder? Do you know where it came from?" Skinner's voice rose in pitch as agony gripped him in icy fingers. He shuddered as Scully whispered the answer.

"Me. It came from me."

"Yes. From you. From your wrists, from your face, from your body. Do you know what I did when I saw the blood? I wiped it on the sheets. I just wiped it away and left. I left you there. I never even looked back. How could I do it? How could I almost do it twice!" Skinner finished with a roar, hand flinging out and smashing a nearby lamp to the floor.

(Don't know which is dream, which is reality)


End file.
